


Like the Sun Came Out

by kubotits



Category: Bleach
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, IchiRuki Week, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kubotits/pseuds/kubotits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early morning hours, Ichigo and Rukia's five-year-old daughter wakes them up with a fever, but that's not the only surprise of the night. (Okay, it's not a surprise if you read the tags, but shh Ichigo's pretty surprised about it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the Sun Came Out

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 8/13/13 on deviantArt for #IchiRuki-Week, day three: Pregnancy. I had been sitting on this idea for a while though, IchiRuki Week was just an excuse to actually finish and post it c: Enjoy a snippet of my dream future for Ichigo and Rukia~

_When you walked into the room just then,  
_ _It's like the sun came out_  
-Gabrielle Aplin, “Start of Time”

“Mama?” and a light tug at the sleeve of her nightgown is all it takes to wake Rukia. She has always been a light sleeper, having a child just made it more acute. However, while her eyes snap open, alert in an instant, her husband beside her gives a little groan that sounds like an attempt at speech. Rubbing little circles into Ichigo's back, she silently lets him know it's her turn and he doesn't have to get up. There's another mumbled noise of gratitude, before he slips off back to sleep.

Rukia gives an slight shake of the head at her husband's enviable ability to fall into slumber so quickly, then turns to their five-year-old. “What's up, sweetie?” she asks softly.

Akemi blinks at her mother with tired, indigo eyes, her wavy orange hair mussed from sleep. “I don't feel good,” she says as quietly as any five-year-old can, little louder than a stage whisper. A quick assessment from her mother shows her discomfort, beads of sweat at her forehead, red-hot cheeks.

Rukia rises, whispering, “Yeah? Let's see.” She leans down to kiss Akemi's forehead, and yes, “You have a bit of a fever. Nothing to worry about, but let's check your temperature and get you some water.”

She makes to hold her hand but Akemi has other plans, stretching her arms up and wriggling her fingers expectantly. “Oh, alright,” she mutters, a little exasperated, and exaggerating the effort of scooping her under the armpits with a little, “ _Oof_.” She wasn't that much higher, of course, but to a five-year-old, a little went a long way.

Balancing Akemi on her hip, her little arms round her neck, Rukia makes her way through the hallway of their house. It's an off-set extension of the Kuchiki Estate, sitting on the grounds, but far enough away that they have their privacy. The style of the house is of the norm in Soul Society—on the outside, but inside is fitted to accommodate their modern family living, with full kitchen and indoor plumbing. Though Byakuya seemed wary of such an idea, the couple, so used to the quality of life in the Land of the Living, insisted they couldn't see themselves raising a family any other way.

Stepping from carpet to hardwood, Rukia sets little Akemi on the counter of the island in the middle of the large kitchen, her daughter's legs swinging. She knows she's not allowed to sit on the kitchen counters, so the perch feels like a privilege and brings a small smile to her entirely too-hot face.

A glance to the oven's digital clock tells her mother the unfortunate time: five in the morning. Rukia sighs heavily, pushing back her hair before opening the cupboard they keep medicines and the thermometer. She's grateful for the weekend, otherwise they'd all have to be awake in only a couple of hours.

Holding the retrieved thermometer aloft, Rukia requests dramatically, “ _Open sesame_!” Akemi giggles before complying.

When it's time to take it out, with minimal squirming from her daughter, Rukia reads 99.6°. Nothing she can't handle. “I wanna see! I wanna see!” demands Akemi—but she pouts when Rukia holds it out for her, as if it's not high enough.

“Hey, that's an _A_ grade,” says her mother, not really sure why she's defending a number on a screen.

“That doesn't make any sense,” retorts the clever, eye-rolling five-year-old. “It's numbers, not letters.”

Rukia laughs, but Akemi is far too proud of herself for outsmarting her mama to question it. As she's fetching her daughter's promised water, a thought comes to her head. Once Akemi takes a drink and sets down the cup, Rukia asks, “Feel any better?”

Akemi quirks her mouth to the side. “Not really.”

“You know,” begins Rukia, tapping a slender finger against her chin thoughtfully, “come to think of it, your grandpa Isshin taught me a special kidou spell for fevers.”

“Ojii-san?” She looks skeptical; her goofy goat-bearded grandpa didn't seem like the type who solved problems.

Rukia nods, then begins to move her hands in an intricate display of deftness and impressive improvisation. There isn't any incantation at all (she isn't _that_ good of a fibber), but she grasps Akemi on either side of her waist, and blows a raspberry right on her forehead! Akemi shrieks, giggling manically as she struggles away.

When she finally calms down, she quips, “I don't think it worked.”

Rukia agrees with a, “Yeah, Grandpa's hopeless,” but the distraction seems to have done her good. There's a smile on her lips, and that signature twinkle in her eyes.

As if on cue, it's then that Ichigo groggily emerges from behind the corner, only half-awake before seeing his family and lighting up at the sight of little Akemi's lopsided grin. His still sleep-ridden voice comes out gravelly and low when he asks, all enthusiasm, “What are my two most favorite, gorgeousest ladies doing awake at this time of night?”

“Papa!” exclaims Akemi, reaching her arms out to him. In one fell swoop, Ichigo snatches the giggling child up from her perch and holds her high before letting her rest on his hip.

Rukia's own hips cock to the side, akimbo arms and pursed lips to match the attitude she intends to throw her husband's way. “Just a little fever, but you shouldn't get her all riled up,” she admonishes, punctuating the sentence with an errant smile. She didn't expect him to join them, his sudden appearance catching her somewhat off-guard. And she doesn't know how to be even _fake_ -mad at him when he's smiling like that.

He takes note of how tired she sounds and looks, hair disheveled and nightgown rumpled, but Ichigo can't help but notice a slight glow to her face. Those eyes, the breathtaking eyes Akemi inherited, look bright in the half-light of early morning, as they shift over husband and child.

“Yeah!” chimes Akemi, not really sure what her mother meant and trying for a frown—but she also fails to stay so serious in Ichigo's presence.

Ichigo turns with such a full laugh that Rukia's breath catches in her throat. After nearly half a decade raising Akemi, Rukia sometimes still is taken aback by how easy he is with their daughter. The genuine smile that was so rare in the early months of their friendship no longer hides away. Rukia had seen him play so many different roles: Shinigami, Visored, Fullbringer, Quincy—but she decided from the moment Akemi was born that fatherhood suited him best.

“And 'gorgeousest' isn't a word,” their daughter adds in an authoritative tone well past her years. She looks so, so proud of herself, crossing her arms over a puffed out chest. She tips a little in the attempt, but he manages to easily balance her.

Ichigo beams. _Like mother, like daughter,_ he muses.

“It _isn't_?” cries Ichigo, turning in mock shock to his snickering wife. “When did you get so smart?” He nudges her cheek with the tip of his scrunched-up nose and tickles her with his scratchy morning-stubble into another fit of giggles.

Rukia steps closer to her family, greeting Ichigo “Good morning” before standing on her tip toes to kiss him.

“How early is it?” he asks through an exaggerated yawn.

“The age of our daughter,” she retorts, gesticulating toward the hint of sun outside their window, barely cresting the horizon.

Ichigo groans, before mock-glaring at a guilty-looking Akemi—who is now just old enough to know how to wheedle her nimble way out of a scolding. It was only this year when she realized how her big, indigo eyes could help her get away with almost everything with her father. He doesn't fall for it this time, however, setting her down and telling her right away to run along back to bed.

Akemi pouts, but does as he says when he promises he'll follow right after her to tuck her in. She gives him a dramatic, scandalized look that makes Ichigo chew the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He and his wife lean around the corner to watch their daughter rush off to her room—but then she pauses, whips around, and asks, “Mama too?”

“Mama too,” confirms a radiant Rukia.

Excited, Akemi zooms to her bedroom.

Sighing, Ichigo wraps a strong arm around Rukia's shoulder, leaning in to kiss atop her head. She hums into him, her arms encircling his waist and linking behind his back. “That girl could get away with murder,” Ichigo murmurs into his wife's hair.

“As long as it was up to you and she gave you those big, pleading eyes,” teases Rukia, pulling away slightly so she can see his face. He's blushing a little, around the ears.

“I-it's _your_ eyes I see looking up at me,” he mutters, as if it helps his case.

As if Rukia didn't already know. “Oh, so it's my fault?” she counters.

“I never said that,” he mutters, with an expression that can't seem to decide between a grin and pout. He leans down to give her another kiss. “Mm,” he begins before the kiss is broken. “I'm sorry I didn't get up earlier, yesterday was kind of...long. One crisis after another.”

“Excuses, excuses,” she snickers. “And weak ones, at that. I'm a captain too, you know! Although...” She pauses, taking a step back as if to brace herself. She meant to wait until morning to tell him, but morning came so much sooner than she had expected. With this opening though? She may as well toy with him a little. “I...might have to take some leave from captain's duties pretty soon,” she hints, even going so far as to place an unsubtle hand over her tummy.

However, this gesture is completely lost on Ichigo, who stiffens, leaping from shock to frantic worry: “Leave? What? Why? Are you okay? Is Akemi? What kind of leave?”

“ _Maternity_ leave, you idiot,” she answers with an amused grin.

His reaction is not too much different from when she was first pregnant: a potent mixture of excited and nervous. Eyes sparkling, he practically vibrates with energy as he reaches out his hands to grasp her shoulders. “You're...you're pregnant?”

Nodding emphatically, Rukia beams up at her husband and now she really is glowing. “I just found out before we went to bed. I didn't want to say anything until tomorrow but...Akemi's going to be a big sister.”

He gathers her in his arms, bending down to rest his cheek on her head. She squeezes back, burying her face in his firm chest. They take a deep breath in unison, weighing what this would mean for their future.

Rukia smiled against him. “Another little handful,” she sighs, a little muffled.

“Let's just hope it's not _twins_ ,” laughs Ichigo.

She pulls away to scold, “Don't even joke about that!” but he just keeps laughing, so she joins in.

From the other room, there's a distinct and whiny “Maaaaamaaaaa! Paaaapaaaaaa!”

“Ah, if we don't go now, she'll just get up again,” mutters Rukia, breaking away from the hug.

But Ichigo stops her with a hand on her arm. “What are we gonna tell her?”

“Oh,” she begins coyly, “I was thinking something along the lines of, 'Do you know why big sisters are born first?'”

“Using my own words against me?” he asks shyly, coloring slightly.

“Not against. I'm on your side, always,” she reminds him, rising for another kiss. The statement itself is nonchalant, but the sentiment brings another blush to Ichigo's cheeks. She continues as if nothing happened: “But it's probably best if we wait until later to tell Akemi. Otherwise we're _never_ getting her back to sleep.”

He agrees, then follows her down the hall.

Akemi is sitting up in bed, her arms crossed over her chest, her cheeks puffed out in a stubborn pout. “You took a long time.” They apologize profusely, bowing their heads in reverence to Akemi's reign until she holds out her hand to stop them, announcing, “You're _embarrassing_ yourselfs.”

Grinning, her parents tuck her in, sitting on either side of her bed. Just when they think they could get away with leaving the room and getting some shut-eye themselves, Akemi gets that dreaded twinkle in her eye, breaking free of her blanket cocoon to sit up. “Tell me a story,” she implores.

The exhausted parents groan in tandem, exchanging frustrated glances.

Ichigo gives in: “Okay. But _only_ because you're sick.” He eyes her suspiciously, as if her fever was all an elaborate ruse to get a bed time story out of them. Rukia shakes her head, knowing that she's the storyteller in the family, so the task will most likely fall to her. She stifles a yawn.

“What did you have in mind, Akemi?” she asks.

“I want Papa to tell it,” she requests. Well, that was a relief. For Rukia, at least.“One Boy, One Shinigami!”

Ichigo slumps. “Oh, but that's such a long story.”

“'One Boy, One Shinigami'? That's what you ended up calling it?” Rukia turns to her husband with an eyebrow raised. “Not very original.”

Ichigo crinkles his nose at her. “'Story of Destiny' sounded too cheesy.” He turns back to Akemi: “But that is _way_ too long, you're going to have to choose something else.”

“Nooo! Please? _Please_?” she pleads, plaintive eyes on full blast.

“Yeah, come on!” adds Rukia, hitting him with the same look.

Ichigo is taken aback. “You too?!”

His wife shrugs guiltily. “I haven't heard it in a while.”

He looks back and forth between the two, rubbing the back of his neck. He sighs, “Oh _alright_ , but not the whole thing! Just the first bits.”

“Yay!” exclaims Akemi, clapping her little hands in anticipation. Ichigo and Rukia make themselves comfortable on the bed, leaning over their child.

Ichigo takes a deep breath, then begins.

“There was once a boy, a human—well, so he thought—who as long as he could remember, had the ability to see ghosts. One day, a couple months before his sixteenth birthday—your typical Friday night—he came across a girl. But she wasn't just any ordinary girl. She was a shinigami, like your mom and I, and she”—he looked to Rukia, his hand finding hers again like it had all those years ago—“she changed his world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus round! Or: I'm Chock-full of Headcanons, Somebody Stop Me.
> 
> Don't even ask me if she's a Kurosaki or Kuchiki (I will dance away in the opposite direction singing "I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts"), but Akemi's name is written 明光: the first kanji meaning "bright"--with sun and moon radicals!--the second meaning "light." I'm about as subtle as a ton of bricks, I know.
> 
> Don't worry, it's not twins! Their second child is a boy, with Rukia's black hair and indigo eyes and Ichigo's nose. He's near-sighted so he wears glasses and has kind eyes. He looks a lot like Ichigo's original design actually (laugh), but he does his hair like young!Isshin once he hits his teen years. I'm sorry if ~manga genetics~ for both the kids; my character designs have no scientific value, I just really like the aesthetic (sweat drop). Not sure what name for "otouto" yet, but I like Tatsuya, don't you? This is the part where I wink conspiratorially at my fellow myu fans.
> 
> I actually have more, if you'll believe it. But that's for another day. If at all.


End file.
